A Different View
by Darktimes
Summary: SPARRINGTON: When a broken Jack Sparrow becomes part of Commodore Norrington's life, will his view of the pirate change? Will he see just who Jack really is?


WARNING: This is a Sparrington story! For people who don't like slash, don't bother reading! Remember; Ye be warned! Also this story will contain lots and lots of angst, pain, torture, suggested rape, tears and comfort!

Chapter One: Discovery.  
  
The early morning mist lingered over glass-like, crystal-clear water. Not a wave, not a ripple or sign of any currents, not a breath of wind, no birds, no terra firma in sight. Just a flat, crystal-blue surface.  
  
This was a time that sailors feared most, even to a tempest. Ships required the wind, to fill their sails and push their great keels through the ebb and flow, but now the Dauntless lay becalmed in the water.  
  
The Navy vessel had been immobile for two days entire, and the crew were growing restless. They were intended to have arrived back in Port Royal by midday yesterday, bearing the intelligence of the whereabouts and ship scrutiny particulars of the East India Company. But the diminutive undertaking had resulted in only hearsay from some of the local ports.  
  
'Hardly a dependable source.' Mused Commodore James Edward Norrington, from his position in close proximity to the helm. 'I wouldn't trust those low life law breakers as far as I could throw them.'  
  
So not only was the Dauntless behind schedule, but was too come back to port empty handed. The Commodore sighed. Such an easy task to accomplish, yet so hard to execute. Why was it always the way?  
  
His career was looking bleak these days. Being a Commodore of the Royal Navy and all, he was meant to execute his duties unsurpassed of his capabilities. But shamefully he had carried many a wrong torch to light his path. Firstly, he let a pirate steel the fastest ship under his command. Secondly, he led his men into a bloodbath, where many a poor soul was callously murdered by un-dead pirates. Thirdly, he had stood by and watched that rogue, Jack Sparrow, return to his ship, the Black Pearl, and sail into the sunset. And now this.  
  
Sure, a man could not foresee the weather, he knew that this unintentional set back was inescapable, but not finding the East India Company was entirely his own blemish. Had he not lingered in the ports, but rather sailed in open waters and listened to the fishermen's tales, he would have found the ship he sought.  
  
With a glance and a nod at the helmsman, James retired to his cabin. Removing his richly embroiled jacket, he carefully lay it over the back of his chair, and placed his hat on the writing table, littered with parchment, ink pots and the occasional quill.  
  
Pulling the chair out from beneath the table, James dropped down onto it. A double-take at the desk revealed the log book, with today's fragmentary entry. Sighing, he pulled the decrepit book towards himself, found a decent enough quill and a pot of ink and prepared to complete the entry, when the very unambiguous yell of "Sail ho!", caught his immediate attention.  
  
'Ah, the wind must be picking up further out to sea.' Thought James. 'Won't be long before we are on our way.'  
  
Donning his jacket and tri-cornered hat, James returned to the helm. Pulling out his telescope he crossed the deck to stand alongside the second- in-charge, Lieutenant Henry Barton.  
  
"It is a large galleon, flying British colours, sir." Lieutenant Barton informed the Commodore, "Looks to be one of our own. Though coming from the west would indicate that it is Captain Lawson and Resolute. But she is not due back for another four days. "  
  
"Unless they have found something." Replied James, lowering the telescope.  
  
"Should we run up the flag of truce, sir?"  
  
"Wait until we can make certain identification. We don't want any conflict while the winds down."  
  
"Yes sir." Replied Barton, straightening his hat. "I don't mean to sound judgemental or anything, but Captain Lawson is very. . . ."  
  
"Sure of himself?" The Commodore suggested helpfully.  
  
"No. I was more going along the lines of malicious. Blood thirsty, if it's not too bold to say."  
  
"No, no. Quite alright. I wholly agree with you. To be frank, I do not feel at all comfortable in his company." Said Norrington, again, raising the telescope to his eye. The ship was now only a few miles out and the white flag of truce waved delicately from the foremost mast.  
  
"Barton, run up the truce." He told the lieutenant, his eye never leaving the other ship. "Captain Lawson has come for a visit."  
  
Ten minutes anon the Resolute and the Dauntless were parked side by side in the now slow swell of the sea. The sailors set about tying the ships together and lowering the gang plank between them. Upon crossing to the other ship, James noticed the Captain.  
  
'He looks happy.' He thought dryly.  
  
"Commodore! How brilliant to see you, sir!" Called Lawson, as he hurried over to Norrington's side. "We found the East India Company's ship the Vengeance and got all the information we required. But you would not believe what else we found!"  
  
"Slow down Captain." Said James, brushing dirt off of his jacket sleeve, "First tell me who was in command."  
  
"Sorry sir. It was Captain Mark Dalton."  
  
"Right, and where are they?"  
  
"Close to the Spanish waters, about two days east from here."  
  
"And their cargo? Any prisoners?"  
  
"Their cargo was mainly food provisions, but they did have a dozen rolls of silk for some reason. And they had one prisoner. If you would follow me sir, I would like to show you him."  
  
Captain Lawson led Norrington down into the damp, foul smelling brig. Grime and filth covered the flooring, making it slippery to walk on. James felt sick from the putrid smell.  
  
'How could anyone survive two days in here?' He thought.  
  
As they kept walking he noticed that he was now ankle deep in sea water.  
  
"Captain, you have a leak." James said dryly, shaking a piece of sea weed of his leg.  
  
"Oh, yes. Sorry about that Commodore. It needs to be fixed as soon as we reach Port Royal."  
  
Once they had reached the last cell, Lawson fumbled around for the keys, before opening the heavy iron door and stepping inside. James took a deep breath before following him in.  
  
After his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he could see a lithe figure lying on his side in the corner. He was minus his shirt and had lacerations along his back. His tanned skin covered in tattoos and old scars. To the Commodore, he looked oddly familiar. Even from where he stood, James could see the prisoner trembling in shock, cold or fear, he didn't know which.  
  
"You, up!" Commanded Lawson, as he shoved he keys back into his pocket, and walked over to the prisoners side, "I said up!"  
  
The prisoner didn't move and was rewarded with a hard kick to the stomach. Groaning, and clutching at his stomach, with shaky hands and said something quietly, in what sounded like Spanish.  
  
"Keep a civil tongue, filth." Scowled Lawson, kicking him again.  
  
Norrington was shocked when it suddenly dawned on him. Rushing to the prisoner's side, he took one look at him and confirmed his suspicions.  
  
The battered and broken man lying in the cell was without a doubt, the one and only, Jack Sparrow. Captain of the Black Pearl.  
  
Please review! I am so very nervous about what people will think about my work. So please review. . . . . and try not to flame me too much!


End file.
